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sheenianniTitle: (Meet Me) At the Crossroads (Part III)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sheenianni
Artist:aragarna
Fandom: White Collar
Notes: See Prologue
PART III
When the conference room finally fills, Peter gives everyone a small smile before speaking up and turning on the board.
“Good morning everybody. Our newest case is an identity doctor named Angela Santano. She is 34 years old, has a ten year old kid; she’s been arrested a couple times but we never had enough for a conviction. She has a legitimate job as a waitress that may or may not be connected to her forging business. Jones, do you want to continue?”
“Mrs. Santano is currently going through a messy divorce,” says Jones, easily taking over from Peter. “Her soon to be ex-husband came to us a week ago, supposedly after only just learning of his wife’s illegal activities. Unfortunately given his obvious bias, Mr. Santano’s credibility on a witness stand would be questionable, so we will need other evidence if we want our case to stick. The obvious problem is that if we approach Angela directly, her lawyers could try and call it an entrapment…”
As Jones fills everyone in on the details of their latest case, Peter has a chance to subtly observe the room. He is pleased to see that Diana has settled in again, not that he expected anything less. Their newest probie, Blake, is still just watching and staying quiet – Peter will give it another week before talking to him about it. And then there is Neal, who Peter watches with carefully hidden concern and worry.
If any of his agents witnessed what Neal did, they would have received counseling and possibly a few weeks of paid leave. Instead, Peter counts himself lucky that he even managed to negotiate Neal’s release back into his custody – and it had been a close thing. The DOJ weren’t too happy with the publicity of a plane exploding on their watch, which means that both Peter’s and Neal’s future now hangs on the success of their next few cases.
Hughes’s warning still fresh on his mind, Peter refuses to think about what will happen if Neal can’t deliver.
Peter sees as Neal stifles a yawn, discreetly rubs at his forehead and loosens his tie a bit. He has to squash the urge to tell Neal to go home and get some sleep. The best thing he can do now is distract Neal with a case and help him fake it until he can make it.
Through the rest of the day, Peter keeps checking on his friend, and his concern grows into real alarm. He sees as Neal’s hands start to shake as he begins to fill out some document; he notices him almost spilling his coffee when Diana talks to him with his back turned.
He wonders if he should let Neal go undercover on this case. A distraction could be good for him… but at the same time Peter doesn’t want to risk it in case things went sideways. But eventually, he might have to make that call.
Maybe Mozzie could help him, thinks Peter in a sudden flash of inspiration. Mozzie would know what Neal was thinking; maybe he could provide him with valuable insight. And if not, at least Peter could be sure that someone was watching over Neal when he wasn’t at the FBI.
His mind set, Peter texts Mozzie to set up a meet.
* * *
Being the delivery man/nurse is a tiring and ungrateful job, especially when your patient is in hiding and getting cranky from living cooped-up for over a month. Still, Mozzie isn’t known for abandoning friends in need, even if they pretend not to want his help.
“You’re drawing attention. I would have been fine until the evening,” snaps Kate at him instead of a greeting.
“Wow, good day to you too,” replies Mozzie sarcastically as he passes her a grocery bag. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”
“I’m not in the mood, Mozzie,” says Kate impatiently. “Do you have anything for me besides milk and bagels?” She doesn’t wait for his answer as she puts the bags in the kitchen and returns back to the living room. Once again, Mozzie is greeted by the familiar sight of a desk covered with papers, maps and books. Kate’s laptop is softly humming on the chair.
After pouring himself a glass of water, Mozzie follows Kate to the table and wordlessly prompts her to proceed.
“Our best bet is Budapest,” says Kate steadily as she hands Mozzie some blueprints and a bunch of photos. “You’ll start in Paris; something not too high-profile but enough to attract both Burke and Adler. Then the gallery in Vienna, and finally when both the FBI and Adler are on your tracks, you’ll botch-up the Budapest heist so that Neal gets shot during the getaway. Once he’s ruled dead, the three of us will meet at Côte d’Azur–”
“Not France, Kate,” Mozzie shakes his head immediately. “Everyone knows how much you love that country. It can’t fit your or Neal’s profile. Think someplace where tourists don’t come much; where neither you nor Adler have any ties – did you piss off any Russians?”
“Not that I know of,” says Kate with a frown. “But what–”
“Estonia,” says Mozzie decisively.
“Estonia? What’s there?”
“Estonians, Russians and some minorities – and they do have a sea if you still want your ‘villa overlooking the ocean’ dream. … Look, you already vetoed South America, Asia and the islands. Estonia’s civilized, part of the EU but not too flashy, and nobody would look for you two there. At least look it up.”
Kate bites her lip. “Okay. I will.”
She is clearly tired and on edge, her face half-hidden by a streak of messy hair; however, her voice is firm and filled with determination. Moz gives her a grim nod of approval. “Good. Now, where are we on Neal’s “death”?”
“Blank shots, puff fish toxin and fake EMTs,” says Kate.
Puff fish… “Hey, that was my idea! How did you know anyway?”
“You told me two weeks after Neal was incarcerated, after you came to my apartment to yell at me.”
“Ah, that.” Mozzie hides a wince. He had been angry that day; grieving and drunk. “Kate–”
“Water under the bridge, Moz,” she says with a shrug. “Will this work?”
“I’ll make it work,” promises Mozzie.
Which brings them to their biggest problem…
“So, have you told Neal the plan yet?”
“When did I have the time?” asks Kate rhetorically. “Besides, he’ll be fine with it.”
“Kate…”
“He left for Copenhagen, he let himself get caught, he lied about the music box… I visited him for four years, and he still didn’t trust me.” Kate draws a shaky breath. “All I wanted was for us to be free and safe. We could have been far away by now. Neal owes me this.”
Mozzie frowns before nodding. Even if Kate’s real motivation isn’t quite so simple, he knows that Neal will listen to her.
Kate with all her flaws on one hand; the feds and mortal peril on the other. Mozzie hesitates, but in the end it’s not hard to pick.
“If you go with that argument, subtlety is the key,” he advises thoughtfully.
“I’m not stupid,” says Kate dryly. “Anyway, I think you’re wrong. There’s nothing holding Neal here. He ran and faked his death plenty of times before. It will be just like old times.”
“Yeah. Like old times,” echoes Mozzie thoughtfully.
Suddenly, his phone beeps. Mozzie pulls it out and raises his eyebrows when he reads the message. Speaking of the devil…
“Huh.”
“What is it?” asks Kate with concern.
“The Suit wants to meet with me this evening. To quote, ‘it’s about our mutual friend,” says Mozzie with a frown. He sighs. “I should have expected this.”
“You gave him your number and you brought it here?”
Looking up, Mozzie realizes that Kate is staring at him with shock.
“Relax, the signal is rooted through five continents,” he says dismissively. “I have to figure out what I’ll tell him…”
“First Neal, and now you’re actually going to meet with him?!” exclaims Kate. “Has everyone gone mad around here? Did you both forget that Burke put Neal in prison?”
“And now he’s the only thing keeping Neal out. They consider each other friends, believe it or not–”
“You’re damn right I don’t believe it,” snaps Kate tightly. “Burke used me to catch Neal. I don’t want him anywhere near any of us.”
“That’s not gonna happen, Kate,” says Mozzie rationally. “Or did you forget Neal is working for the feds now? … Look, the Suit’s concerned for Neal, and frankly, so would I be if you really were dead. If I don’t meet with him, the Suit will get suspicious and start poking around. I have to do this.”
“Fine, if Burke really thinks Neal is his friend, then tell him that Neal is heartbroken and hurting. Tell him to stop being Neal’s jailor and to give him space.” Kate’s eyes are blazing with cold rage. “You know what, tell him Neal blames him for my death.”
Ouch. “And you think that’s the best strategy,” says Mozzie skeptically.
“I don’t care! Four years, Mozzie. Do you have any idea how it felt to watch him there every week? Every damn week?! And then he has the nerve to accuse me of not loving him?!”
He forgot how vicious Kate could be.
“I’ll consider it,” says Mozzie carefully. “Trust me, I have this. I’ll figure a way to neutralize Burke–”
“Besides, he may have been in on it with Adler and Fowler,” Kate interrupts him. “The way he conveniently stepped in with a way to shackle Neal–”
Mozzie shakes his head. “Look, Peter might be a fed–”
“Exactly. ”
“–but he’s not dirty. Besides, I told you the anklet was Neal’s idea.”
“Right, and you’re absolutely sure of that,” Kate laughs bitterly. “I should have known Neal didn’t notice my message at prison. If I had known – I should have waited longer. Who knows what Burke told him when they met?”
“Kate–”
“I held a gun to his face, Mozzie, and he didn’t even blink. He wasn’t scared, he wasn’t surprised – he was smug. It was Fowler and Adler all over again.” She wraps her arms around her torso. “I’m so sick of being a pawn in these games!”
“No longer,” says Mozzie quietly. “Not anymore, Kate. I promise.”
“Promise you won’t let him mess this up,” says Kate.
Mozzie nods. “On that, you have my word.”
He struggles to hide his worry. Kate might be smart and determined, but she is acting borderline irrational – though not without reason, Mozzie admits reluctantly. Meanwhile, Neal is still recovering from prison, not to mention he’s keeping up a façade at the FBI. Once again, it’s up to Moz to be the safety net for both of them.
And then there is the Suit.
He can’t allow Kate to target him; he hopes she will be smart enough not to badmouth him in front of Neal.
When he leaves Monday half an hour later, Mozzie types a message to Peter to meet him at the park.
* * *
As the clock approaches six p.m., Peter feels his stomach clench in anticipation.
Per Mozzie’s instructions, he has found the correct bench, and after a momentary hesitation he even bought a newspaper at the nearby kiosk. As he waits, Peter thinks back to his day. He wonders what Mozzie will have to say; he needs to know how Neal is doing, he needs to know what to look for; he needs to make sure Mozzie will keep an eye on Neal when Peter can’t be there.
He still feels the weight of Hughes’s eyes on him as he was leaving – his boss didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to.
‘We need this case. I need Neal to be all right. Please be all right.’
If he and Mozzie work together, maybe both of them can get back their friend.
Finally, Peter’s phone rings. “Yes?”
“I saw a mockingbird in the park.”
“What? Mozzie, is that you?”
“No names!” exclaims a distorted voice. “You’re supposed to be reading the paper.”
“You’re using a voice-changer. Unbelievable.”
“The password–”
“I’m not playing this game. Get over here now,” says Peter with a slight growl.
“You were the one that set up this meet, Suit,” says Mozzie once he appears from behind a tree.
“I did. Come sit with me.”
“Fine.”
Once they settle on the bench, Peter skips the small talk – they both know why they’re here. “So. How is he holding up?”
“I’m working on it. Don’t worry, it’s under control. He will be fine,” says Mozzie evasively.
What the…
“‘Fine’, seriously? Do you think I’m blind?”
“I don’t know what you’re–”
“He’s got the shakes,” interrupts him Peter. “Sometimes he just – goes blank for a moment, like he’s not there. What do you think will happen if he can’t do his job and my bosses notice?”
Mozzie pales. “You can’t. Peter – it would destroy him.”
“Then help me out, Mozzie. If I am to cover for him, I need to know what to look for. I can’t navigate us through the minefield if I’m blindfolded.” Peter tries to speak with calm and reason to hide his growing despair. If he had to put Neal back in jail on top of everything that has happened to them – he doesn’t know how he would live with that.
For a long time, Mozzie remains silent. “I don’t know what you want to hear, Suit,” he says at last.
“How is he?” asks Peter again.
Mozzie looks away. “It’s been only four weeks since he saw Kate die. What do you think?”
Right. “Did he talk to you about it?”
Mozzie snorts. “In case you didn’t notice, Neal isn’t exactly forthcoming when it comes to this sort of things. … Just give him time, okay?”
“And in the meantime, the two of you are looking into who murdered Kate. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“We didn’t come here to discuss Neal’s activities,” says Mozzie defensively. “Besides, what he does in his free time is his business–”
“Of course it is,” says Peter sarcastically, and he has to bite back words of frustration. “Did you find anything?”
“Not part of the deal, Suit.”
There is something off about Mozzie’ expression… “You did find something,” says Peter in realization. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” says Mozzie.
“Right. Will this “nothing” get him in trouble? No, forget I asked that,” says Peter even before Mozzie starts shaking his head. He takes a deep breath. “I can keep an eye on him at work, but I’m not around the whole day.”
“He’s not sleeping enough,” says Mozzie after a pause.
“I noticed. Nightmares?”
“I stayed with him last night… He probably didn’t fall asleep until close to dawn.”
Peter’s heart clenches. “Does he think he’s in danger from whoever killed Kate? If it helped, I could offer him to stay at my place for a while…”
“NO!”
Peter pauses. “No?”
“Errr… I don’t think that would be good idea, Suit,” says Mozzie. “Neal needs familiar surroundings now. Yes!”
“You’re not telling me something.”
“No. Ha. Why would you think that?”
“Mozzie–”
“Okay!” Mozzie pauses. “Neal… he has been acting a bit weird, all right?”
“Weird how?” Peter’s gut is screaming at him that something is going on.
“‘Fear is the mother of foresight.’ It’s not paranoia if they’re out to get you.”
Peter frowns. “Explain.”
What is going on?
* * *
“Hey Moz. What’s going on here?”
Turning around, Mozzie notices Neal on the stairs. “Oh, hi, Neal. Don’t mind me, I’m almost done.”
“You’re installing a peephole in my door?” asks Neal with mild interest before coming inside.
“Well, given how often you get unwelcome guests? I can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner.” At last, Mozzie puts down the screwdriver and bends down to collect his tools. “Okay, all good. So–”
“Moz? Why is there a baseball bat on my table?”
Turning around, Mozzie sees Neal staring at the item with a mixture of curiosity and horror.
Mozzie has to suppress the urge to shuffle his feet. Everyone was always a critic, he thinks with a bit of a miff. “Oh. About that…”
“Do you play? You know I don’t. How did we even get the thing?”
Mozzie sighs. “Okay, I may have met with the Suit, and he may have caught me off guard–”
“What?”
“– and he was talking about coming here uninvited. So I told him you needed space and routine, that you’re acting paranoid and that you borrowed the bat from June’s grandkid in case someone came after you. You know, for protection.” Gauging a hopeful look at his friend, Mozzie is discouraged when Neal stares at him as if he had grown another head.
“So you had a talk with Peter and then you brought me… a baseball bat.”
Mozzie shrugs uncomfortably. “Just stick it behind the door, okay?”
Neal shakes his head before chuckling slowly. “Okay.” After hiding the bat out of sight, Neal gives him a small smile. “Hey, Moz? Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” replies Mozzie awkwardly. He clears his throat. “If you’re going to see her later, you should eat something and then get some rest.”
“I can’t–”
“Neal, I get it. At least try, okay?”
His friend bites his lip before nodding. “Fine.”
Forty minutes later, Neal pulls the curtains shut and goes to bed. It’s three hours until midnight. Mozzie picks a random book, pours himself a glass of wine, takes the place in one of the armchairs and prepares to keep guard.
He has a long night ahead of him.
* * *
They barely exchange the words of greeting.
“You’re here,” Neal breathes out. Even after Mozzie told him, he didn’t quite believe it – he had been sick with worry the whole day, fearing that it had been a dream and not sure what he would do if this wasn’t real. He grasps at Kate’s hand – he touches her cheeks, her hair; cupping her face, Neal pulls her closer –
Later as they break their kiss, Neal stares at Kate with a mix of wonder and amazement.
His joy turns to concern when Kate winces and scratches at her arms even as she bites hard on her lower lip.
“Kate?”
“It’s – just give me a moment,” she says with a grimace. “I’ll be right back.”
Following her to the kitchen, Neal watches Kate open two different vials. Her hands are shaking a bit as she swallows three pills with some water.
“It’s the burns, isn’t it?”
Avoiding his look, Kate finishes her glass and places it into the sink. “I’m fine–”
“Let me help.”
“Neal–”
“Please. Kate–” He refuses to feel so useless – if he can do something now, maybe it will relieve a bit that black pit at the bottom of his stomach; the crushing weight on his soul that he has failed her. “Where do you keep the lotion?”
For a moment, there is silence. “Bathroom, top drawer.”
Neal smiles at her. “So where do we do this, the couch or the bedroom?”
“You don’t have to. I can handle it–”
Neal silences her with a kiss. “I love you,” he says when they pull apart again.
Hesitantly, she smiles back at him. “I know. … My bed, then?”
“Sure.”
They kiss again, then Kate leaves and Neal goes to the bathroom to fetch the moisturizer. He easily finds the correct bottle – judging by its weight, it’s already halfway empty – and he stares at his reflection in the mirror as he tries to collect his wits and prepare himself for the task ahead.
The bedroom is dark as Neal enters; the only source of light being a small lamp in the corner. Neal finds Kate lying naked under the covers; eyes closed, her face half buried in a pillow, her clothes folded on the floor. Pulling the blanket away, Neal kisses Kate’s bare shoulder before sitting down next to her. Looking down, it’s like a stab to the heart – Kate’s back, ass and the top of her thighs are a mess of scabs, blisters, scars and angry dark pink and red. It shouldn’t have been like this.
But Kate is still here, still breathing, and Neal is once again reminded it could have been so much worse. He strokes a part of her skin that isn’t damaged; he touches her hair again and tries to regain his balance. They have survived this.
He opens the lotion, pours some on his hand and starts lightly applying it on Kate’s burns.
“I asked Mozzie how bad it was,” says Kate after a while, her voice muffled by the pillow.
Mentally, Neal winces even as his hands remain steady. “Probably not the best idea. Moz can be very – expressive.”
“More like brutally honest,” says Kate with a chuckle. “So he told you what happened?”
Neal nods. “The rough outline, yes.” He pauses. “By the way, not that I’m complaining, but when did the two of you start getting on this well?”
“He spent almost a week by my side,” murmurs Kate. “With Adler out there, I wouldn’t have lasted a day in a hospital. He saved my life.”
Flashing back to the moment of the explosion, Neal suddenly feels lightheaded and almost loses balance. ‘Thank God for Moz.’
“It’s healing nicely,” he says as he pours another portion of the lotion on his hand.
“Liar,” replies Kate, but there is not sting in it, only a bit of fond amusement. She sighs. “Neal… what are we going to do next?”
What are we going to do?
He considers it.
There is Peter – and June, New York – but Kate matters more to him. She needs him more.
“We can go,” says Neal slowly.
Kate turns her head to smile at him. “Good.” She pauses. “You can’t just disappear though, or they’ll come looking for you. We could fake your death.”
Neal draws in a sharp breath. “That’s–”
“We’ll never be safe otherwise,” Kate presses as she sits up with a wince. “Think about it; our little house with the view on the sea… This is the only way to escape Adler and the FBI.”
Standing up, Neal turns around to face away from Kate as he considers her words.
Fake his death …
Remembering the day on the airstrip, Neal is hit with a wave of nausea. When the plane exploded, his heart was ripped apart – and now he would do the same to Peter…
But Peter has El and his job; he will get over it eventually. On the other hand, Neal can’t risk putting Kate in danger again.
He sits back to the bed next to her. Kate’s skin is glistering in the dark, the subtle scent of the lotion still in the air between them.
“All right,” Neal says at last.
Kate smiles at him. “I love you.” She reaches for his shirt and starts releasing the buttons, helping him undress until he’s just as naked as she is. Then she pushes him down and kisses him on the lips, followed down with a kiss to his collarbone.
They haven’t been together like this since Neal left for Copenhagen.
As he makes love to Kate for the first time in years, Neal finds it easier to forget about Peter and his upcoming betrayal.
Everything is going to be just fine.
* * *
Part IV
Author:
sheenianniArtist:
aragarnaFandom: White Collar
Notes: See Prologue
___________________________________
PART III
When the conference room finally fills, Peter gives everyone a small smile before speaking up and turning on the board.
“Good morning everybody. Our newest case is an identity doctor named Angela Santano. She is 34 years old, has a ten year old kid; she’s been arrested a couple times but we never had enough for a conviction. She has a legitimate job as a waitress that may or may not be connected to her forging business. Jones, do you want to continue?”
“Mrs. Santano is currently going through a messy divorce,” says Jones, easily taking over from Peter. “Her soon to be ex-husband came to us a week ago, supposedly after only just learning of his wife’s illegal activities. Unfortunately given his obvious bias, Mr. Santano’s credibility on a witness stand would be questionable, so we will need other evidence if we want our case to stick. The obvious problem is that if we approach Angela directly, her lawyers could try and call it an entrapment…”
As Jones fills everyone in on the details of their latest case, Peter has a chance to subtly observe the room. He is pleased to see that Diana has settled in again, not that he expected anything less. Their newest probie, Blake, is still just watching and staying quiet – Peter will give it another week before talking to him about it. And then there is Neal, who Peter watches with carefully hidden concern and worry.
If any of his agents witnessed what Neal did, they would have received counseling and possibly a few weeks of paid leave. Instead, Peter counts himself lucky that he even managed to negotiate Neal’s release back into his custody – and it had been a close thing. The DOJ weren’t too happy with the publicity of a plane exploding on their watch, which means that both Peter’s and Neal’s future now hangs on the success of their next few cases.
Hughes’s warning still fresh on his mind, Peter refuses to think about what will happen if Neal can’t deliver.
Peter sees as Neal stifles a yawn, discreetly rubs at his forehead and loosens his tie a bit. He has to squash the urge to tell Neal to go home and get some sleep. The best thing he can do now is distract Neal with a case and help him fake it until he can make it.
Through the rest of the day, Peter keeps checking on his friend, and his concern grows into real alarm. He sees as Neal’s hands start to shake as he begins to fill out some document; he notices him almost spilling his coffee when Diana talks to him with his back turned.
He wonders if he should let Neal go undercover on this case. A distraction could be good for him… but at the same time Peter doesn’t want to risk it in case things went sideways. But eventually, he might have to make that call.
Maybe Mozzie could help him, thinks Peter in a sudden flash of inspiration. Mozzie would know what Neal was thinking; maybe he could provide him with valuable insight. And if not, at least Peter could be sure that someone was watching over Neal when he wasn’t at the FBI.
His mind set, Peter texts Mozzie to set up a meet.
Being the delivery man/nurse is a tiring and ungrateful job, especially when your patient is in hiding and getting cranky from living cooped-up for over a month. Still, Mozzie isn’t known for abandoning friends in need, even if they pretend not to want his help.
“You’re drawing attention. I would have been fine until the evening,” snaps Kate at him instead of a greeting.
“Wow, good day to you too,” replies Mozzie sarcastically as he passes her a grocery bag. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”
“I’m not in the mood, Mozzie,” says Kate impatiently. “Do you have anything for me besides milk and bagels?” She doesn’t wait for his answer as she puts the bags in the kitchen and returns back to the living room. Once again, Mozzie is greeted by the familiar sight of a desk covered with papers, maps and books. Kate’s laptop is softly humming on the chair.
After pouring himself a glass of water, Mozzie follows Kate to the table and wordlessly prompts her to proceed.
“Our best bet is Budapest,” says Kate steadily as she hands Mozzie some blueprints and a bunch of photos. “You’ll start in Paris; something not too high-profile but enough to attract both Burke and Adler. Then the gallery in Vienna, and finally when both the FBI and Adler are on your tracks, you’ll botch-up the Budapest heist so that Neal gets shot during the getaway. Once he’s ruled dead, the three of us will meet at Côte d’Azur–”
“Not France, Kate,” Mozzie shakes his head immediately. “Everyone knows how much you love that country. It can’t fit your or Neal’s profile. Think someplace where tourists don’t come much; where neither you nor Adler have any ties – did you piss off any Russians?”
“Not that I know of,” says Kate with a frown. “But what–”
“Estonia,” says Mozzie decisively.
“Estonia? What’s there?”
“Estonians, Russians and some minorities – and they do have a sea if you still want your ‘villa overlooking the ocean’ dream. … Look, you already vetoed South America, Asia and the islands. Estonia’s civilized, part of the EU but not too flashy, and nobody would look for you two there. At least look it up.”
Kate bites her lip. “Okay. I will.”
She is clearly tired and on edge, her face half-hidden by a streak of messy hair; however, her voice is firm and filled with determination. Moz gives her a grim nod of approval. “Good. Now, where are we on Neal’s “death”?”
“Blank shots, puff fish toxin and fake EMTs,” says Kate.
Puff fish… “Hey, that was my idea! How did you know anyway?”
“You told me two weeks after Neal was incarcerated, after you came to my apartment to yell at me.”
“Ah, that.” Mozzie hides a wince. He had been angry that day; grieving and drunk. “Kate–”
“Water under the bridge, Moz,” she says with a shrug. “Will this work?”
“I’ll make it work,” promises Mozzie.
Which brings them to their biggest problem…
“So, have you told Neal the plan yet?”
“When did I have the time?” asks Kate rhetorically. “Besides, he’ll be fine with it.”
“Kate…”
“He left for Copenhagen, he let himself get caught, he lied about the music box… I visited him for four years, and he still didn’t trust me.” Kate draws a shaky breath. “All I wanted was for us to be free and safe. We could have been far away by now. Neal owes me this.”
Mozzie frowns before nodding. Even if Kate’s real motivation isn’t quite so simple, he knows that Neal will listen to her.
Kate with all her flaws on one hand; the feds and mortal peril on the other. Mozzie hesitates, but in the end it’s not hard to pick.
“If you go with that argument, subtlety is the key,” he advises thoughtfully.
“I’m not stupid,” says Kate dryly. “Anyway, I think you’re wrong. There’s nothing holding Neal here. He ran and faked his death plenty of times before. It will be just like old times.”
“Yeah. Like old times,” echoes Mozzie thoughtfully.
Suddenly, his phone beeps. Mozzie pulls it out and raises his eyebrows when he reads the message. Speaking of the devil…
“Huh.”
“What is it?” asks Kate with concern.
“The Suit wants to meet with me this evening. To quote, ‘it’s about our mutual friend,” says Mozzie with a frown. He sighs. “I should have expected this.”
“You gave him your number and you brought it here?”
Looking up, Mozzie realizes that Kate is staring at him with shock.
“Relax, the signal is rooted through five continents,” he says dismissively. “I have to figure out what I’ll tell him…”
“First Neal, and now you’re actually going to meet with him?!” exclaims Kate. “Has everyone gone mad around here? Did you both forget that Burke put Neal in prison?”
“And now he’s the only thing keeping Neal out. They consider each other friends, believe it or not–”
“You’re damn right I don’t believe it,” snaps Kate tightly. “Burke used me to catch Neal. I don’t want him anywhere near any of us.”
“That’s not gonna happen, Kate,” says Mozzie rationally. “Or did you forget Neal is working for the feds now? … Look, the Suit’s concerned for Neal, and frankly, so would I be if you really were dead. If I don’t meet with him, the Suit will get suspicious and start poking around. I have to do this.”
“Fine, if Burke really thinks Neal is his friend, then tell him that Neal is heartbroken and hurting. Tell him to stop being Neal’s jailor and to give him space.” Kate’s eyes are blazing with cold rage. “You know what, tell him Neal blames him for my death.”
Ouch. “And you think that’s the best strategy,” says Mozzie skeptically.
“I don’t care! Four years, Mozzie. Do you have any idea how it felt to watch him there every week? Every damn week?! And then he has the nerve to accuse me of not loving him?!”
He forgot how vicious Kate could be.
“I’ll consider it,” says Mozzie carefully. “Trust me, I have this. I’ll figure a way to neutralize Burke–”
“Besides, he may have been in on it with Adler and Fowler,” Kate interrupts him. “The way he conveniently stepped in with a way to shackle Neal–”
Mozzie shakes his head. “Look, Peter might be a fed–”
“Exactly. ”
“–but he’s not dirty. Besides, I told you the anklet was Neal’s idea.”
“Right, and you’re absolutely sure of that,” Kate laughs bitterly. “I should have known Neal didn’t notice my message at prison. If I had known – I should have waited longer. Who knows what Burke told him when they met?”
“Kate–”
“I held a gun to his face, Mozzie, and he didn’t even blink. He wasn’t scared, he wasn’t surprised – he was smug. It was Fowler and Adler all over again.” She wraps her arms around her torso. “I’m so sick of being a pawn in these games!”
“No longer,” says Mozzie quietly. “Not anymore, Kate. I promise.”
“Promise you won’t let him mess this up,” says Kate.
Mozzie nods. “On that, you have my word.”
He struggles to hide his worry. Kate might be smart and determined, but she is acting borderline irrational – though not without reason, Mozzie admits reluctantly. Meanwhile, Neal is still recovering from prison, not to mention he’s keeping up a façade at the FBI. Once again, it’s up to Moz to be the safety net for both of them.
And then there is the Suit.
He can’t allow Kate to target him; he hopes she will be smart enough not to badmouth him in front of Neal.
When he leaves Monday half an hour later, Mozzie types a message to Peter to meet him at the park.
As the clock approaches six p.m., Peter feels his stomach clench in anticipation.
Per Mozzie’s instructions, he has found the correct bench, and after a momentary hesitation he even bought a newspaper at the nearby kiosk. As he waits, Peter thinks back to his day. He wonders what Mozzie will have to say; he needs to know how Neal is doing, he needs to know what to look for; he needs to make sure Mozzie will keep an eye on Neal when Peter can’t be there.
He still feels the weight of Hughes’s eyes on him as he was leaving – his boss didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to.
‘We need this case. I need Neal to be all right. Please be all right.’
If he and Mozzie work together, maybe both of them can get back their friend.
Finally, Peter’s phone rings. “Yes?”
“I saw a mockingbird in the park.”
“What? Mozzie, is that you?”
“No names!” exclaims a distorted voice. “You’re supposed to be reading the paper.”
“You’re using a voice-changer. Unbelievable.”
“The password–”
“I’m not playing this game. Get over here now,” says Peter with a slight growl.
“You were the one that set up this meet, Suit,” says Mozzie once he appears from behind a tree.
“I did. Come sit with me.”
“Fine.”
Once they settle on the bench, Peter skips the small talk – they both know why they’re here. “So. How is he holding up?”
“I’m working on it. Don’t worry, it’s under control. He will be fine,” says Mozzie evasively.
What the…
“‘Fine’, seriously? Do you think I’m blind?”
“I don’t know what you’re–”
“He’s got the shakes,” interrupts him Peter. “Sometimes he just – goes blank for a moment, like he’s not there. What do you think will happen if he can’t do his job and my bosses notice?”
Mozzie pales. “You can’t. Peter – it would destroy him.”
“Then help me out, Mozzie. If I am to cover for him, I need to know what to look for. I can’t navigate us through the minefield if I’m blindfolded.” Peter tries to speak with calm and reason to hide his growing despair. If he had to put Neal back in jail on top of everything that has happened to them – he doesn’t know how he would live with that.
For a long time, Mozzie remains silent. “I don’t know what you want to hear, Suit,” he says at last.
“How is he?” asks Peter again.
Mozzie looks away. “It’s been only four weeks since he saw Kate die. What do you think?”
Right. “Did he talk to you about it?”
Mozzie snorts. “In case you didn’t notice, Neal isn’t exactly forthcoming when it comes to this sort of things. … Just give him time, okay?”
“And in the meantime, the two of you are looking into who murdered Kate. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“We didn’t come here to discuss Neal’s activities,” says Mozzie defensively. “Besides, what he does in his free time is his business–”
“Of course it is,” says Peter sarcastically, and he has to bite back words of frustration. “Did you find anything?”
“Not part of the deal, Suit.”
There is something off about Mozzie’ expression… “You did find something,” says Peter in realization. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” says Mozzie.
“Right. Will this “nothing” get him in trouble? No, forget I asked that,” says Peter even before Mozzie starts shaking his head. He takes a deep breath. “I can keep an eye on him at work, but I’m not around the whole day.”
“He’s not sleeping enough,” says Mozzie after a pause.
“I noticed. Nightmares?”
“I stayed with him last night… He probably didn’t fall asleep until close to dawn.”
Peter’s heart clenches. “Does he think he’s in danger from whoever killed Kate? If it helped, I could offer him to stay at my place for a while…”
“NO!”
Peter pauses. “No?”
“Errr… I don’t think that would be good idea, Suit,” says Mozzie. “Neal needs familiar surroundings now. Yes!”
“You’re not telling me something.”
“No. Ha. Why would you think that?”
“Mozzie–”
“Okay!” Mozzie pauses. “Neal… he has been acting a bit weird, all right?”
“Weird how?” Peter’s gut is screaming at him that something is going on.
“‘Fear is the mother of foresight.’ It’s not paranoia if they’re out to get you.”
Peter frowns. “Explain.”
What is going on?
“Hey Moz. What’s going on here?”
Turning around, Mozzie notices Neal on the stairs. “Oh, hi, Neal. Don’t mind me, I’m almost done.”
“You’re installing a peephole in my door?” asks Neal with mild interest before coming inside.
“Well, given how often you get unwelcome guests? I can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner.” At last, Mozzie puts down the screwdriver and bends down to collect his tools. “Okay, all good. So–”
“Moz? Why is there a baseball bat on my table?”
Turning around, Mozzie sees Neal staring at the item with a mixture of curiosity and horror.
Mozzie has to suppress the urge to shuffle his feet. Everyone was always a critic, he thinks with a bit of a miff. “Oh. About that…”
“Do you play? You know I don’t. How did we even get the thing?”
Mozzie sighs. “Okay, I may have met with the Suit, and he may have caught me off guard–”
“What?”
“– and he was talking about coming here uninvited. So I told him you needed space and routine, that you’re acting paranoid and that you borrowed the bat from June’s grandkid in case someone came after you. You know, for protection.” Gauging a hopeful look at his friend, Mozzie is discouraged when Neal stares at him as if he had grown another head.
“So you had a talk with Peter and then you brought me… a baseball bat.”
Mozzie shrugs uncomfortably. “Just stick it behind the door, okay?”
Neal shakes his head before chuckling slowly. “Okay.” After hiding the bat out of sight, Neal gives him a small smile. “Hey, Moz? Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” replies Mozzie awkwardly. He clears his throat. “If you’re going to see her later, you should eat something and then get some rest.”
“I can’t–”
“Neal, I get it. At least try, okay?”
His friend bites his lip before nodding. “Fine.”
Forty minutes later, Neal pulls the curtains shut and goes to bed. It’s three hours until midnight. Mozzie picks a random book, pours himself a glass of wine, takes the place in one of the armchairs and prepares to keep guard.
He has a long night ahead of him.
They barely exchange the words of greeting.
“You’re here,” Neal breathes out. Even after Mozzie told him, he didn’t quite believe it – he had been sick with worry the whole day, fearing that it had been a dream and not sure what he would do if this wasn’t real. He grasps at Kate’s hand – he touches her cheeks, her hair; cupping her face, Neal pulls her closer –
Later as they break their kiss, Neal stares at Kate with a mix of wonder and amazement.
His joy turns to concern when Kate winces and scratches at her arms even as she bites hard on her lower lip.
“Kate?”
“It’s – just give me a moment,” she says with a grimace. “I’ll be right back.”
Following her to the kitchen, Neal watches Kate open two different vials. Her hands are shaking a bit as she swallows three pills with some water.
“It’s the burns, isn’t it?”
Avoiding his look, Kate finishes her glass and places it into the sink. “I’m fine–”
“Let me help.”
“Neal–”
“Please. Kate–” He refuses to feel so useless – if he can do something now, maybe it will relieve a bit that black pit at the bottom of his stomach; the crushing weight on his soul that he has failed her. “Where do you keep the lotion?”
For a moment, there is silence. “Bathroom, top drawer.”
Neal smiles at her. “So where do we do this, the couch or the bedroom?”
“You don’t have to. I can handle it–”
Neal silences her with a kiss. “I love you,” he says when they pull apart again.
Hesitantly, she smiles back at him. “I know. … My bed, then?”
“Sure.”
They kiss again, then Kate leaves and Neal goes to the bathroom to fetch the moisturizer. He easily finds the correct bottle – judging by its weight, it’s already halfway empty – and he stares at his reflection in the mirror as he tries to collect his wits and prepare himself for the task ahead.
The bedroom is dark as Neal enters; the only source of light being a small lamp in the corner. Neal finds Kate lying naked under the covers; eyes closed, her face half buried in a pillow, her clothes folded on the floor. Pulling the blanket away, Neal kisses Kate’s bare shoulder before sitting down next to her. Looking down, it’s like a stab to the heart – Kate’s back, ass and the top of her thighs are a mess of scabs, blisters, scars and angry dark pink and red. It shouldn’t have been like this.
But Kate is still here, still breathing, and Neal is once again reminded it could have been so much worse. He strokes a part of her skin that isn’t damaged; he touches her hair again and tries to regain his balance. They have survived this.
He opens the lotion, pours some on his hand and starts lightly applying it on Kate’s burns.
“I asked Mozzie how bad it was,” says Kate after a while, her voice muffled by the pillow.
Mentally, Neal winces even as his hands remain steady. “Probably not the best idea. Moz can be very – expressive.”
“More like brutally honest,” says Kate with a chuckle. “So he told you what happened?”
Neal nods. “The rough outline, yes.” He pauses. “By the way, not that I’m complaining, but when did the two of you start getting on this well?”
“He spent almost a week by my side,” murmurs Kate. “With Adler out there, I wouldn’t have lasted a day in a hospital. He saved my life.”
Flashing back to the moment of the explosion, Neal suddenly feels lightheaded and almost loses balance. ‘Thank God for Moz.’
“It’s healing nicely,” he says as he pours another portion of the lotion on his hand.
“Liar,” replies Kate, but there is not sting in it, only a bit of fond amusement. She sighs. “Neal… what are we going to do next?”
What are we going to do?
He considers it.
There is Peter – and June, New York – but Kate matters more to him. She needs him more.
“We can go,” says Neal slowly.
Kate turns her head to smile at him. “Good.” She pauses. “You can’t just disappear though, or they’ll come looking for you. We could fake your death.”
Neal draws in a sharp breath. “That’s–”
“We’ll never be safe otherwise,” Kate presses as she sits up with a wince. “Think about it; our little house with the view on the sea… This is the only way to escape Adler and the FBI.”
Standing up, Neal turns around to face away from Kate as he considers her words.
Fake his death …
Remembering the day on the airstrip, Neal is hit with a wave of nausea. When the plane exploded, his heart was ripped apart – and now he would do the same to Peter…
But Peter has El and his job; he will get over it eventually. On the other hand, Neal can’t risk putting Kate in danger again.
He sits back to the bed next to her. Kate’s skin is glistering in the dark, the subtle scent of the lotion still in the air between them.
“All right,” Neal says at last.
Kate smiles at him. “I love you.” She reaches for his shirt and starts releasing the buttons, helping him undress until he’s just as naked as she is. Then she pushes him down and kisses him on the lips, followed down with a kiss to his collarbone.
They haven’t been together like this since Neal left for Copenhagen.
As he makes love to Kate for the first time in years, Neal finds it easier to forget about Peter and his upcoming betrayal.
Everything is going to be just fine.
Part IV
